What happened in the dungeons
by elizabeth's lullaby
Summary: Rose is ashamed - but she is definatley NOT falling for Malfoy! Charms essays and hot weather don't help either...


**So I've been trying SO HARD to write a decent FanFic for so long – it's quite hard not working with my own characters! Anyway, I think I'm a bit useless at Fanfics. Therefore I may not try to write too many more. Please do tell me if this is worth reading. **

Rose leaned back in her favourite chair in the Hogwarts library, tying up her hair in a red ribbon mid-swing.

It's the hottest day of the year so far, and she feels uncomfortable, in spite that the library is the coolest part of the castle. Apart from the dungeons, of course.

But she's not about to remember what happened in those dungeons two days ago.

She looks around the library, pushing her nearly-finished Charms essay (practice for OWL) away for a while until she's cooled down.

Over to the cluttered library desk through a gap in the bookcases, she can see Madame Pince has actually _taken her cloak off _(a small miracle). There's Greg McClaggen (oh _no_), mercifully looking the other way and seems to be chatting to Scamander about his try-out for the Holyhead Harpies Junior Team with various hand gestures. _Don't look at me _– Rose had had enough business with boys over the past few days to be dealing with her resident Spaniel._ Well, one boy in particular._

Sighing, she drags the essay back so it rests right under her face, quill drifting lazily over the line "_Wingardium Levosa can't necessarily lift centaurs," _when two cool, strong arms constrict around her shoulders, smoothing the exposed skin at her neck. Her heart palpitates, and there's a familiar mouth at her ear.

"You've been avoiding me." whispers a cool, even voice, and memories of two days previously flood into her tired mind, livening it so blood thumps around her body, drumming in her ears. That voice has had this affect on her for some time, and she knows exactly who it is.

"Scorpius, get your hands off me. Now." Her voice sounds braver than she is feeling, which would be shaky, hot and _so-slightly_ scared of McClaggen catching sight of this…

He sighs, and eventually unwinds himself from her flushed form in the chair and pulls up a stool from underneath a neighbouring desk, he sits opposite her. His eyes are swirling silver pools as he (unashamedly) stares into her own. Rose is lost there for a moment, staring at his slightly tanned face, that face that every girl in Hogwarts secretly swooned for but was always too afraid to ask him out. A chiselled jaw frames a perfectly curved mouth, and she watches those soft lips part…

"Oh I forgot – didn't you say something about never wanting to see me again?" Ever the one with sardonic answers.

"I do! I just, it - it was awkward."

"Obviously, us kissing in the dungeons would make any arch-enemies uncomfortable." thud. Thud. THUD.

"You were never _my_ arch enemy."

"_You_ kissed me back." He's said it. So she _did. _Help.

That's the last straw for her calm façade, and as blood boils beneath the skin of her cheeks, words come out half-formed and unsteady.

"Yo n-know," _sigh. Deep breath_ "You know Hugo would hex you senseless if he finds out?"

"No one will find out. Oh and I'm _completely_ terrified of that bat-bogey thing."

"Oh well you're just a-" pause "Coward." _Smooth._

"Frigid." _Owch. _

"It's nothing to do with my frigid-ness, Malfoy! We were nearly seen!"

"Oh back to Malfoy then?" Rose can hear anger rising in his voice.

_I can think of worse to call you. _

"Until you leave me alone and _stop stalking_ me after potions I will carry on avoiding you and I'll call you by your second name!"

"Stalking you?" he says a little too loudly, causing Madame Pince to jump from her chair (where she had recently nodded off into her pumpkin juice) a few inches and give them both evil looks because she's too hot to force them to leave. After a few seconds of glaring at _each other, _Scorpius carries on in a loud whisper.

"Merlin, Potter! You're the one that gives me the eyes in practically every lesson. What was I supposed to do? Ignore you when, frankly, you're quite pretty?"

"It was a bit more than kissing, don't you think? Your slimy hands were all over the place!"

"Don't I think?" he sighed again, then continued, his eyes closed as if embarrassed "I think about it all the time. Didn't you love the way we, well, fitted together?"

"I…" Rose trailed off. She actually had nothing to say. She was remembering the way Scopius' arms had felt around her again, strong and crushing her to him, like he couldn't hold her close enough.

She blushes furiously, until he's seized her wrist and pulled her out of the chair and behind a bookcase, away from where anyone can see. His face is close and he still has hold of her arm. It burns where his fingers touch.

"I know a secret passage," he whispers, a little raggedly, as he flicks up the loose nail of the forty-fifth bookcase along, and it silently moves just enough for thin people to squeeze through.

Scorpius doesn't need to pull her along anymore; Rose just longs for his embrace again, and comes willingly through the gap after him. _I'll give him frigid, but not too far, just to keep him interested…_

She just barely makes out the contours of a small passage, with the light outside before the passage door snaps shut. She pulls out her wand, but before she can utter the incantation, Scorpius has spun her round to him, and feverish, desperate lips are attacking hers, hot and searing in the cool passage and she _just _manages a non-verbal _Lumos _before she is over come with kissing this sarcastic, obsessive, infuriating Slytherin back, pulling him closer into the kiss.

It's reckless. It could never work, ever.

It's one of the craziest things she's ever done, that's including leading Lysander on in their second year.

But it's the way Scorpius' hand is crushing her hair, not caring that it's ruined, and doing the same to him. Long-ish creamy-white hair running through her fingers at the speed of lightening, and everything happens in snap shots, like when you finger through a Flick Book and its judders, staying on one picture for a second too long and then moving on.

But she doesn't want this book to end, because it's overpowering her with that irrational theme of all great stories; Forbidden Love.

But it doesn't matter right now, because all she can think about is Scorpius, and his coffee taste on her lips.

She can hear a lit wand clatter to the floor.

**A/N: I'm not at all happy with this. Bleh.**

**Please review!**

**~Emma **


End file.
